udy around a bit, Anne."

"Anne can set the table for lunch," said the little grandmother. "Of
course you'll stay, you and Judy. Take Judy with you, Anne."

Belinda and Becky Sharp followed the two girls into the dining-room.
Becky perched herself on the wide window-sill in the sunshine, and
Belinda sat at Judy's feet and blinked up at her.

"Belinda is awfully spoiled," said Anne, to break the stiffness, as she
spread the table with a thin old cloth, "but she is such a dear we
can't help it."

Judy drew her skirts away from Belinda's patting paw. "I hate cats,"
she said, with decision.

Anne's lips set in a firm line, but she did not say anything.
Presently, however, she looked down at Belinda, who rubbed against the
table leg, and as she met the affectionate glance of the cat's green
orbs, her own eyes said: "I am not going to like her, Belinda," and
Belinda said, "Purr-up," in polite acquiescence.

Judy had taken off her hat and coat, and she sat a slender white figure
in the old rocker. Around her eyes were dark shadows of weariness, and
she was very pale.

"How good the air feels," she murmured, and laid her head back against
the cushion with a sigh.

Anne's heart smote her. "Aren't you feeling well, Judy?" she asked,
timidly.

"I'm never well," Judy said, slowly. "I'm tired, tired to death, Anne."

Anne set the little blue bowls at the places, softly. She had never
felt tired in her life, nor sick. "Wouldn't you like a glass of milk?"
she asked, "and not wait until lunch is ready? It might do you good."

"I hate milk," said Judy.

Anne sat down helplessly and looked at the weary figure opposite. "I
am afraid you won't have much for lunch," she quavered, at last. "We
haven't anything but bread and milk."

"I don't want any lunch," said Judy, listlessly. "Don't worry about
me, Anne."

But Anne went to the cupboard and brought out a precious store of peach
preserves, and dished them in the little glass saucers that had been
among her grandmother's wedding things. Then she cut the bread in thin
slices and brought in a pitcher of milk.

"Why don't you have some flowers on the table?" said Judy. "Flowers
are better than food, any day--"

Like a flame the color went over Anne's fair face. "Oh, do you like
flowers, Judy?" she said, joyously. "Do you, Judy?"

Judy nodded. "I love them," she said. "Give me that big blue bowl,
Anne, and I'll get you some for the table."

"Wouldn't yo